


instigate

by finalizer



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Galen POV, M/M, Slight Rogue One Spoilers, krennic is emotionally constipated, one way ticket down the trash chute, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:42:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalizer/pseuds/finalizer
Summary: Galen Erso has never been one for subtlety, in all the years Krennic's known him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> • krennic has had a giant crush on galen since literally forever fight me on this  
> • welcome to hell  
> • what's the ship name
> 
> note: written before the book/movie but edited to fit canonverse

On average, there were roughly a thousand and one things that could go wrong with the construction of the superweapon on a daily basis. A careless switch of a lever could disengage the seals keeping the internal atmosphere in check: everything would shatter apart into chaos and one spark after another would ignite absolute destruction. The smallest disregard for thermal readings could send the hypermatter reactor into overdrive and obliterate the entire station before it could serve its true purpose. Small, harmless mishaps, nothing Krennic couldn’t take care of with both hands tied behind his back.

Yet none of that proved as daunting as the hiss and click of the door to his quarters at an unholy hour in the night.

Barely what seemed like a few seconds ago he’d gingerly sat back against the headboard, limbs too heavy for his liking, for the first time in three cycles, and unwanted visitors were already accosting his downtime.

And Galen didn’t even bother with the common decency to buzz, just went ahead with punching in Krennic’s personal override code that he’d long ago committed to memory. He was never one for subtlety, in all the years Krennic had known him.

Right then, in the dark of night, Krennic considered regretting giving him the sequence. But regret was unprofessional. And the expanse of space outside his viewport was always black as tar, regardless of the hour. Useless facts, utter semantics: components of a sleep-muddled mind. If he chose to feel resentful about anything as trivial, he’d have to keep going down that road: regret ever giving Galen anything _—_  all his resources, every trinket he’d ever wanted right at his disposal, absolute immunity, possibly along with an integral part of himself that Krennic tried to deny ever giving to anyone. He tried to deny its existence altogether. He had no time for sentimentality.

The door slid open of its own accord, the light from the hall illuminating the room for a fraction of a second, then disappearing just as fast, and Galen slipped inside, hardly sparing Krennic a glance before heading for the liquor cabinet. He was inviting himself in for something as mundane as a nightcap. All options considered, a drink or two didn’t seem like too horrific of an idea; the temptation of amber liquid burning all the way down outbalanced only by the leaden weight of exhaustion pressing onto his eyelids.

“You’re a hard man to find,” Galen finally spoke up, his back to the room, glass clinking at his fingertips. “Last few times I checked I was met with an empty room.”

Krennic sighed. His bones rattled within his body. He closed his eyes and cursed his mind for failing to shut down the moment his back had hit the mattress.

Sleep continued to avoid him. He unclenched his jaw and muttered, “You make a habit of breaking in?”

With Krennic’s eyes closed, he could only guess what was happening across the room. He didn’t care. Sloshing liquid, the unsavory creak of the cabinet hinges he kept forgetting to have fixed, then light footsteps headed in his direction.

“Only sometimes.”

The voice was nearer now, warm and familiar, lulling Krennic into a false sense of security. Trust was dangerous, but it couldn’t be helped.

Galen continued. “Besides, it’s only breaking in when the company is unwanted. And I’m so rarely allowed a visit to your headquarters. The lab gets lonely.”

The implication wasn’t lost on Krennic, and his eyes drifted open as the edge of the bed dipped under his visitor’s weight.

Galen was holding out a second glass. The engraved patterns glistened in the dim light from the panel at the bedside. Ethereal, alluring, tempting. Krennic took the glass with tired fingers, made a point to avoid physical contact during the process. Managing a security team of thousands in safeguarding the weapon in its final stages of construction was hardly a challenge compared to controlling himself around the damned man in front of him. Every word, every touch, was like a brick thrown at the glass barrier Krennic raised to isolate himself from relentless feelings of fondness.

“I thought I would update you on the progress,” Galen offered, making no move to rise from the spot he’d occupied. If anything, he made himself comfortable. The proximity seeped warmth, despite the layers upon layers of uniform, their bodies only centimeters apart. The barrier kept breaking in suffocating silence.

“A report would suffice.”

Krennic downed his liquor (vintage _—_  an exquisite choice), slowly but thoroughly, looking out at Galen from above the rim of his glass. He looked equally worn out, a mirror image of fatigue staring back at him.

The words were at the tip of his tongue, urging him to offer Galen a break, to take a day or two to regather his bearings before returning to work. But clarity cracked down like lightning. There was not a moment to waste, to sleep in longer, to let anyone wind down from the punishing tempo of work on the station. The weapon had to be completed, and that was the first and only priority. For him, and for the cause. And he was stringing Galen along.

Krennic set the glass down as Galen watched in amusement, his own still untouched in his lap. The lines and abrasions on his face were hard to make out in the dark, but he knew them too well; knew how they felt beneath his fingertips.

From the very beginning, under mountains of pretexts and false motivations, promises of safety and guarantees of success, Krennic had manipulated Galen into doing his own bidding, for the sake of the Empire. He was exhausted, he was dead certain that Galen knew the truth by now, and he was sickened by how easily the lies still left his lips. He was sickened by the sheer truth, that he would do anything for Galen, yet still pulled his strings, turned him into another puppet of the Emperor, not much unlike himself.

A harsh question snapped him back into the dark room.

“Have you been avoiding me?”

Krennic sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

“No,” he lied.

Galen raised a dubious eyebrow. He did know how to read between the mistruths, regardless of appearances. He knocked his own glass back with no finesse, and Krennic eyed his movements with the subtlety of someone who hadn’t properly slept in three days -- his fingers wrapped around the ornate glass, the line of his throat, the way his eyes drifted shut as he swallowed.

Krennic forced his gaze away.

The bed creaked as weight shifted, as Galen leaned over to set his glass down. It clinked against Krennic’s own, a single chime drowned out by the overwhelming pounding in his chest. Pathetic.

Galen didn’t deem it necessary to return to his prior position; instead remained too close for comfort, half suspended over Krennic with an unreadable expression. His brow furrowed with the slightest of creases, a foreboding warning that something was bound to give.

Krennic didn’t quite remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them, Galen was even closer, bracing himself on the mattress, one hand on either side of Krennic’s waist. He smelled of whiskey and regulation shampoo. The familiarity was intoxicating.

“What are you fighting?”

The glass barrier shattered.

Galen's hand was around his wrist, fingers pressing against his pulse point, luring him closer with each passing second.

Krennic looked up and met his eyes, and that was all the encouragement Galen needed to lean forward and press his lips against Krennic’s. It was unexpected yet painfully predictable in its abruptness, and Krennic’s free hand rose to Galen’s chest seemingly of its own accord. Galen pushed closer, wholly closing the distance between them, harsh and achingly tentative at the same time.

Krennic broke free, managing a quiet warning, a choked off, “ _Galen_   _—_ ” before he was kissed again. His protest, his hesitation, it all lacked conviction. He was lying to Galen and he was cheating himself in the process.

His fingers tightened in the folds of Galen’s uniform. There was no use denying anything this powerful, when all it did was come back and haunt him with increased viciousness. He’d regret it, he’d ignore it -- the hands in his hair, the lips on his skin, every blistering feeling in every nerve ending -- he’d spend unnecessary time rebuilding the walls around himself just to watch them fall apart days later.

They pulled apart, met for brief, desperate kisses, before parting altogether. Krennic’s breathing came out shaky and erratic.

Galen stood.

His smile was unkind, but the affection in his eyes was undeniable. He could only try to be as cruel as Krennic.

“You’d better stop that,” he said, as vague as possible, impossibly still in the near nonexistent light.

Krennic blinked. “Stop what?”

“Avoiding me.”

His lips quirked upwards, already breaking character, the false hostility disappearing from his face entirely.

Krennic would have laughed if he knew how.

“I mean it,” Galen insisted.

With that, he turned around soundlessly and retreated back the way he came in, tapping the panel by the wall to disengage the security and slip outside. Once more, the blinding flash of the overhead lighting from the hall disturbed the pitch black tranquility of Krennic’s quarters. Seconds passed, just enough for the ringing in his head to subside, and Krennic was left wondering whether the visit had been an elaborate fiction crafted by his exhausted mind.

He wasn’t sure if that was the preferred alternative to reality.

The silence was deafening and he let it envelop him, smother his thoughts before they could rampage out of control again. He closed his eyes. His hands dropped to his sides and lay still against the sheets, cold on one side, the burning warmth lingering on the other.

Despite his best intentions, the wall began to build itself back up, cold shards of glass coming together again to protect him from the parts of himself he didn’t trust.

He broke promise after promise, in the end unmoved by his own apathy, save for the lone twinge of disgust at his most prominent betrayal. It hurt, then it was gone, and he was out like a light.

 

**Author's Note:**

> lol but little does krennic know galen is just manipulating him in return, lying through his teeth so he can build the flaw into the death star without krennic noticing (ouch)
> 
> shoutout to all my trash friends on twitter dot com for supporting this kink tbh
> 
> [on 8tracks](https://8tracks.com/finalizer/instigate)


End file.
